" The tone was neutral. “I thought you were coming right across the Park. Ramage—about the forty pounds. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said. \"Yes, I'd love to go. “Won’t you have some more tea, Mr. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. “It’s about forty pounds. We fail altogether to understand your motives in doing what you are doing, or, indeed, how you are managing to do it, or what you are managing on.
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